The Shield and the Anvil
by ice princess deluxe
Summary: Mead is best when shared in laughter and good company. A collection of one-shots between Farkas and the newcomer Mara.
1. welcome wagon

Story note: This is going to be a place marker for several unconnected one-shots instead of a cohesive multi-chaptered story, and I'm betting on it being more of a one-shot collection that's _slightly_ strung together to form a vague timeline. If any of the newer pieces are out of place, I'll be sure to make a note as to where they go. This is my first foray into this fandom, so constructive criticisim is welcomed and appreciated. Rating will more than likely stay within the PG-13 range throughout, but if it dips past that for certain parts, I'll make a note.

Side note: it wasn't until I was playing along in-game when I realized that the name Mara was taken. I'm going with the assumption that her parents wanted a good name for their child and naming her after a deity of love and compassion wasn't a bad way to start life off.

* * *

Mara grunted as she hauled Vilkas's sword up the sloping trail. "I had expected joining the Companions to be more…" Her foot slipped on unfamiliar terrain in the dark and she bit back a curse as she struggled to keep the blade from scraping the ground and ruining the metal. "Glamorous."

There was a deep laugh up the road ahead of her. "Every day can't be about killing giants or trolls, lass. We'd get bored otherwise." A man held aloft a torch and illuminated her way. "You must be the new blood I've heard about."

She gave him a grateful tilt of her chin as she made her way up to the top. Holding the sword close to her chest, she looked at the forge in front of her with wide eyes. "By the gods," she breathed. "I don't think I've ever seen anything more impressive."

"Few have. It's been said that the Skyforge has been here long before Whiterun and Jorrvaskr were even thought of."

She pulled her eyes away from the fires and the nearby grindstone, her heart aching against her ribs at the familiar sights. "I was told to deliver this to you," she said, her eyes falling once again to the hammer casually propped against the anvil.

"I see that Vilkas has already started foisting deliveries onto you. Best be prepared girl; once the others see that you're doing this, they'll be wanting you to do everything from taking broken items to me to cleaning their armor."

She scowled. "So I'm to be the errand girl?"

The man shrugged. "Only because you're new. Everyone here was a whelp at first; they like to give the newcomers a taste of what they had to do before. It should die down within a few weeks, two months at worst. I'm Eorlund Gray-Mane. As you can see, I tend this forge."

"Mara. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ah, you have manners. I don't mean to say that the others don't, but a tip for the newcomer; don't show them off too much. Then the jokes about licking boots and backsides will start up and they're hard to put down with words alone, if you get my meaning." Eorlund studied her, noting the new-looking scrapes against the knuckles of her right hand. "Though by the looks of it, you won't have much trouble letting your fists do the talking for you now and again."

"There was a fight when I came in. Is it always like that?"

"Oh? Was there blood?"

"None that I could see."

"Ah, then that was nothing more than a friendly sparring match, no likely over a spilled flagon of mead or some other such nonsense." He held out his hand to take the sword, noting how her arms were beginning to shake from holding it aloft for so long. "I haven't scared you off yet?"

She stood up straighter. "No. It'll take more than a few fistfights and trips to and from here to do that." She tilted her head and looked at the weapon critically. "Though I have to wonder just _why_ Vilkas sent it to you. It seems perfectly balanced and only needs a minor sharpening, which is something he could have done himself. If anything, that battered old practice shield he had me take swings at earlier needs repair more than his weapon."

"But then that would take away the thrill of sending you to act as his lackey, would it not? Yet you do have a good eye – have you been around weapons much?"

"My father is…" Mara's breath hitched. Everything had happened so rapidly; she hadn't had much time to catch her breath, let alone allow herself to think about her parents. "Was. He was a blacksmith. The way my mother often told it, I was his assistant as soon as I was old enough to know better than to crawl towards the coals."

"From where do you hail, Mara?"

She swallowed, trying not to think about the smoke and the heat. "Helgen." She desperately tried not to think about her family home engulfed in flames, or about the familiar black leather apron covering a lifeless body draped protectively across the body of a woman. Clearing her throat, she gestured towards the forge. "He had a small stall, one of two in town, and nothing as grand as this. Steel was hard for him to come by often, but iron was plentiful. By the age of three, I was buffing shields and by the time I was nine, I was set the task of forging iron daggers of my own."

Eorlund was often thought of as a hard man, but he had a secret weakness for women in distress. That same weakness hit him as he watched Mara stare longingly at the tools of his trade, her face set in a wistful expression. "Well, I'll tell you what. Those meatheads down there will more than likely give you more work to haul up here than I could ever do on my own. I might run this forge, but I also make weapons and armor for a living. Since you have experience – and you _do _have experience in repairs, yes?" He nodded his head when she told him she did. "Then you may come here and help out with anything I think you can do on your own. It'll keep my workload lighter _and_ keep you out of Jorrvaskr. Out of sight, out of mind and all that."

Mara liked that suggestion. "I do believe we have a deal," she said, holding out her hand.

Eorlund was pleased by the firmness of her handshake, slight calluses created from years of hard work scraping against his own. He was also pleased to see the loneliness that had flitted behind her eyes had eased somewhat, and that in its place, she had a look of determination. _Aye, she'll fit in here well,_ he thought with a smile. Setting Vilkas's blade down, he took up a shield. It took very little to convince her to deliver it to Aela, which he was grateful for. He longed to be home to comfort his dear wife. Taking up his torch again, he walked with Mara down the path, parting ways at the front of Jorrvaskr. Farkas and Aela happened to be coming up the stairs, Aela holding a torch and Farkas carting a small keg of ale atop one of his broad shoulders. He couldn't hear the conversation from his vantage point, but the body language of the two Companions told him everything he needed to know. He wagered that Aela would be gruffly ordering Mara about for a week before adding in pointers here and there in her no-nonsense manner while Farkas would be his usual self and attempt to make her feel welcome as best as he could.

Eorlund had to shake his head at the boy. Farkas was one to speak only when he had something to say, and he'd had plenty of things to say in the hours before Mara had finally made her way up to their hall. _A giant, Eorlund. This girl came out of nowhere and landed a killing blow on a giant. She said that she would think about joining us. Even Aela admitted she showed skill with an axe. Do you think she _will_ join or was she only joking?_ By the fifth retelling of the tale, Farkas had all but spun the story around so that Mara had been the one to goad the giant into battle and he and the rest of their scouting party had merely stumbled up upon her as she looted the corpse for valuables.

He'd also described Mara as having hair the color of sun-warmed wheat, which had made Torvar throw his hands up in disgust and suggest that Farkas be kicked out of the Companions so he could pursue his true calling in Solitude at the Bards College. Eorlund had known Farkas ever since he had been but a boy and he had _never_ heard him speak so complimentary towards any woman before. It was something to keep an eye on, that was for certain.

He stifled a chuckle as Farkas proved him right, struggling to hold the cask on his shoulder aloft as he attempted to open the door for Mara. He listened as Mara's quiet laugh floated down the stairs and watched as she ducked underneath Farkas's arm and held the door open for him to pass.

"Yes," Eorlund mused, turning away and heading down towards his own home. "She'll fit in quite nicely here."


	2. things to do

"Hey, do you want…" Farkas's eyes widened at the sight before him. "Woah."

Mara looked up from the metal shin guard she had been cleaning. "Good evening," she said, arching an eyebrow. "Please tell me that you don't have anything to add to the piles."

"Piles? As in _more_ than one?"

She gestured at the heap in front of her. "I've got everything sorted into Things That Need Fixing, Things That Need Cleaning, and Things That Need Sharpening. I really hope that I don't need to make more stacks." Her plan for staying up at the Skyforge had worked for the better part of a month; the other Companions hadn't seen her much, so they hadn't thought to load her down with too many little side projects. Unfortunately, the weather had turned for the worse and there wasn't any amount of work to dodge that could convince her to stay outdoors during freezing rain and whipping winds.

Farkas scowled. "Ragging on the newcomers is supposed to be in good fun. This…" He swept his hand towards the mountain of work. "This is plain slavery."

She looked up at him sharply. "What? You mean this isn't what you had to do when you were new?"

"Well, honestly, I never really had to do much. Vilkas and I were practically raised here. But _no_, this is far too much." Dragging a nearby chair towards the candles Mara had set up, he reached for a honing stone and a dagger. "I'll talk to Kodlak first thing in the morning."

"No."

"No? Don't tell me that you _like_ being treated like this."

She shook her head. "It isn't that. It's that I won't have everyone think that I couldn't handle it." She pushed a lock of hair out of her face. "To be honest, I'm thinking that everyone's loading me up on work so that I'll give up and get out of their hair." Athis was one of the worst offenders; much of the Things That Need Cleaning pile came from him. When Mara was out in the training grounds, he always had something snide to say about her one-handed techniques, but never offered to help her improve. _Well, never offered without asking for money first,_ Mara thought. Her coin purse was woefully light, and had been ever since escaping Helgen. She had answered bounties the Jarl had put up, but two hundred septims only stretched so far. Hopefully Vilkas or Skjor would toss her some lower paying requests they didn't feel like dealing with soon.

She eyed the half-eaten sweet roll she'd left on the table nearby. At least the food was free, as was the roof she had over her head. It was one of the reasons she didn't complain about the work; she could have been in far worse places. Her eyes moved over to Farkas and she felt her lips lift to a soft smile. _And the company is good as well._ Spending time running deliveries for her father and helping in the forge had accustomed her to working with men, but she'd never truly felt attracted to any of them. The bards and other travelers that roamed the inns had been more to her tastes, but there was something about Farkas that made her heart flutter about like a caged bird. He wasn't conventionally handsome, and she had to admit that she had felt intimidated by him when they had first met, but the more she saw of him, the more she appreciated his quiet presence. True, he wasn't a witty conversationalist, but he was nowhere near as dumb as he claimed to be. Out of everyone in Jorrvaskr, he was the one she gravitated towards the most, and she couldn't help but notice that he often made a point to sit beside her at meals or lean against the closest pillar while she trained to shout out tidbits of advice on how to correct her form.

"You can handle it," he said, smoothly sharpening the knife in his hands, the constant scraping sound of metal against oiled stone comforting in the quiet of the downstairs quarters. "You're doing a good job." He wasn't surprised at how fast she blended in at all; she was quick to joke with the others and could _almost_ take Torvar on drink-for-drink before admitting defeat. She was similarly quick on her feet in battle practice, and her arm was good. He guessed that swinging an axe wasn't much unlike swinging a hammer, because she was decent in a fight. He'd have to ask his brother about giving her something challenging to take on soon, just to see how well she did out on the field away from the practice ring.

"Thank you." They sat in silence, he whittling down the Things That Need Sharpening while she finished up and delivered the Things That Need Cleaning to their rightful owners. Most of everyone was either upstairs or down at the Bannered Mare, so she left everything neatly stacked upon beds. She wiped her hands on the legs of her practice trousers – she'd used the most potent cleaning product she could find for Athis's items. It was the best at getting any type of grime or ichor off and gave the metal a pleasing shine. Unfortunately, there was a price to be paid for such good results. The cleaning product was also the smelliest around, and Athis had often boasted about having the best nose in the group. She figured that if he objected too much to the smell, then he wouldn't load her up unnecessarily with work, just because he could.

"I never asked," she said, picking out an easy repair from the Things That Need Fixing pile. A leather strap to Ria's cuirass was coming loose, and it was making for an ill fit to her armor. Several scales up front were also in need or replacing. Luckily, the entire thing was made of leather, which was something that Mara was familiar to working with. Had it been anything other than iron or steel, she would have had to take it to Eorlund to have him look at it. Even though the weather was poor, she could still hear the constant and steady ringing of his hammer against the anvil for brief periods of time during the day when the rain let up. There was a natural ledge covering the forge, so the fires were safe at least from the bulk of the elements. "But what were you going to ask me before you came in here?"

Farkas blinked and drew himself out of his work. Looking at the candle closest to him, he could tell that hours had flown by, yet it had felt like minutes. "I was going to ask if you wanted to join me and the others at the Bannered Mare," he said.

Her cheeks flushed. "And I've kept you from it. I'm sorry, Farkas. Truly, you don't have to finish all of that; what you've done already is a great help."

"I'm almost done," he told her. Besides, spending time with her had turned out to be better than spending time with his fellow Shield Brothers and Sisters. He had their routine well memorized: Vilkas would spend most of his evening chatting up random women, Ria would sigh over Mikael – and probably tumble into bed with him later, not that Farkas really wanted to think on that – Nadja and Tovar would try to out-drink themselves, Nadja losing. Torvar would pass out sometime after – Hulda kept a downstairs room open for such occasions – and Vilkas would leave early with whichever woman he'd charmed clinging to his arm and giggling like mad. Ultimately, Farkas would find himself drinking alone until Nadja would drunkenly pour herself onto his lap and then he'd be forced to hold her hair back while she emptied the contents of her stomach somewhere along the trip back home.

No, spending time with Mara was much more preferable. He liked the heat and the noise and the laughter of the inn as well as any other Nord, but there was something to be said about companionable silence. Mara didn't prattle on like other women were wont to do and she didn't seem to mind his silence. While he might have gotten the brawn in the family, his brother had definitely received a silver tongue. There were times that Farkas envied Vilkas for the ease he had in speaking with others, especially those of the opposite sex, but for the most part, Farkas was content to listen to what others said, take the information in, and speak his opinion once he'd thought over his reply.

"Then your brother owes you thanks," Mara replied, stitching up the leather in her hands. "Most of those blades were his."

"I noticed." He grinned as he finished up the last dagger. "I'm guessing he handed them over because he's sweet on you."

Mara snorted. "What? Vilkas?"

"It surprises you?"

"I can't possibly be his type." She set her repairs down and tore off half of the remaining sweet roll. Taking a bite, she offered the rest to Farkas, who took it.

"You have breasts," he said matter-of-factly, licking the icing off his thumb. "You're his type." His eyes strayed down to the thin shirt she wore and admired the view. He was no priest; he'd spent his fair amount of time admiring her. While he might have spent most of the time ogling her while she practiced her axe attacks in snugly fitting trousers, he had to admit that his favorite time to watch her was during meals. She was most animated around other people, taking in their good-natured joking and doling out her share over meals, her mouth quick to laugh and the light of the torches turning her hair a burnished gold. She'd often turn to him, her blue eyes sparkling with mirth and he'd feel a lurch in his gut that someone like her would be paying attention to someone like him.

"Well, he's not _my_ type." While Vilkas might have initially been frosty towards her, he'd quickly warmed. For the most part, Mara could sense that he was somewhat laid back, but there was a tension about him that simmered close to the surface. It wasn't any of her business to pry, but she did like to keep their relationship friendly. She felt that Farkas had something to do with Vilkas's turnabout behavior: the others were quick to inform her that the two of them might as well be joined at the hip with how much time they spent together. One brother told the other everything, and vice versa, so it was completely likely that Farkas had shared his opinion of her to Vilkas and his brother had taken his words to heart.

"I guess my brother will just have to cry himself to sleep until he gets over his broken heart." Vilkas _had_ mentioned that he had been interested in Mara, but that had been weeks ago. Farkas hadn't said much to encourage him to follow up on his interest, and thankfully Vilkas hadn't mentioned anything to him since. "And what _is_ your type?"

She leaned forward, mending forgotten. "I'll know it when I see it," she answered playfully, ignoring the heat that had risen to her cheeks. It was the closest she had gotten to flirting with a man in what felt like ages, and she was woefully out of practice.

He swallowed hard. Damn, but her smiles were disarming. "Well, you're not gonna find it sitting here." Standing up, he tugged on her hand. "Come on. If we're lucky, we'll get to see Torvar throw himself at Uthgerd the Unbroken." And if Torvar was lucky, Uthgerd wouldn't break his nose again when the man's hands wandered to places she didn't want them to go.

She looked down at her work. She hadn't kept track, but he'd completely finished the Things That Need Sharpening pile, leaving her only the mending and repairing to work on. "But…"

"Leave it, Mara. If any of the others see you without work, they'll load you up all over again." He'd already made up his mind to honor her wishes and not speak to Kodlak, but he'd also made up his mind to speak to everyone individually and give them all a gentle reminder to lay off.

There were times when being the largest and the strongest of the bunch paid off. He knew for a fact that he could be intimidating when he wanted to be, and he intended to let people know that he'd taken their newest member under his wing.

Setting the leather aside, she squeezed his hand and allowed him to pull her to her feet. "All right, you've convinced me," she said. She felt a thrill go up her spine at the sound of her name on his lips. Everyone else called her _New Blood _or _Whelp_ and the elders often just called everyone _Child_, but Farkas always called her by name. She made a grab for her coin purse that she had stashed underneath her mattress, but Farkas stopped her.

"Nope, I'm buyin'. As thanks for the mending job."

She looked away. Farkas had also been the only one to not give her any menial task. She had been helping Tilma with the laundry the other day and had noticed a rip in one of the shirt's arms. The shirt's length and wide chest gave no question as to who its owner was, and she'd spent a ridiculous amount of time mending the tear, using stitches so tiny that one would have never known that it had been torn in the first place.

The way that she acted, one would have thought she was a mooning girl instead of a woman of twenty-five. It was a wonder that no one had picked up on her feelings yet.

"It was nothing," she said. "I'm sure you would have done the same for me."

He laughed. "Trust me, you don't want me anywhere near a thread and needle. Aela once limped back from a job we were on with tons of bandages because she couldn't bear the idea of me stitching her injuries up. I still say she lost out on a great opportunity to have a unique looking scar."

She laughed with him, noting how he tilted his shoulder away as a silent courtesy for her to lead the way up the stairs. He kept to her side on the trip down to the inn, his hand always inches from her elbow as they navigated the dark and icy stairway down to the lighted area near the Gildergreen. Heat from the fire blazing in the Bannered Mare hit their faces as they walked in, which was a welcome change from the cold winds. Hulda waved them in and began pouring two tankards of ale, which they gladly took. Luckily, there was a bench beside the fire that was open, and they both sat close together, warming up from the brief yet chilly trip.

Farkas scanned the crowd. His brother was nowhere to be seen, Athis was challenging Torvar to a game of strong-arm at a table near the back, Athis having a slight advantage because he wasn't near as drunk as his opponent, and Njada was snoring quietly in a corner, her head tilted back and her mouth open. Ria waved to them before weaving her way around and plunking down beside him. The move caused him to have to scoot closer to Mara, which he didn't mind in the slightest. She didn't seem to care either, her fingers tapping on her knee as she kept beat to Mikael's drum. Certain things were still predictable: Torvar wound up passing out before his strong-arm match was over, Athis struggling to drag his Shield Brother's limp body to the back room to sleep off his indulgences, the elf cursing a blue streak the entire time. Njada woke up with a start and suddenly looked green around the gills, Ria sighing before hurrying as best as she could to haul her Sister outside towards some bushes. If anything, the two of them wouldn't be back in. Ria always did have a weak stomach when dealing with others when they were ill. Farkas made a mental note to tell Athis to check on them later. As much as he loved his comrades in arms, he really didn't feel like messing with two sick women at the moment.

Other things weren't quite as predictable. One, he wasn't drinking alone. Mara had started to sing along with Mikael, her voice rising over the familiar din as clear as a bell.

She turned to him, her eyes twinkling in happiness, and he was very glad that he had decided to stop and talk with her that evening instead of following his usual routine.


	3. Chapter 3

She looked at home in front of the forge, her hair pinned out of her face and a blacksmith apron tied twice around her middle. The sun had only been in the sky for about three hours, but it seemed as if Mara had been at work for quite some time. Farkas had half a mind to lean against the stone, content to simply watch her, but she sensed someone and turned her head.

"Good morning," she greeted, her cheeks pink from the heat. She held what looked to be part of a pauldron over the fire with a pair of metal tongs.

"Morning," he replied. "What's that you got there?"

"Eorlond is letting me practice techniques for finishing armor." She gestured with her chin at what looked to be two pots stacked one atop the other she had set up near the anvil. "You put a small amount of water in the first pot, then beeswax in the second. Place both pots over heat until the wax melts, and then add in oil. After, you rub the mixture onto your metal and heat the piece over a fire."

"And it turns out brown?"

She nodded. "At first. If I keep this up and let the mixture burn off evenly, it will eventually turn a black color that will look lovely once it's buffed and polished." She had seen her father do a similar process countless times, but she had never gotten the opportunity to learn how for herself. "This is a scrap piece he wasn't happy with, so if I mess up, it's of no importance."

Farkas leaned against the stone wall. "You've been up here since coming back from your trip, haven't you?"

Mara looked away. "Yes, I have. I couldn't sleep, so I came up here." The Skyforge had become a sort of refuge, a place where she could go and think when nightmares of Helgen burning woke her. If Eorlund was awake and at work, he never asked questions when she made her way up the stairs and besides giving her some mindless task to keep her hands busy, he left her to her thoughts, which she appreciated.

"You never told anyone where you went." It had been unlike her. Every one of the Companions took some time away from Jorrvaskr to do some job or another; he himself had only been back for a few days after a weeklong excursion north to take care of a request. In the three months that Mara had been with them, she'd only left Whiterun perhaps a handful of times, and each time she'd been back within a day or two.

Apparently, this time she'd been gone nearly as long as he had. She still hadn't shown up a day after he had gotten back, and if she hadn't returned before dawn that very morning, he would have gone out to search for her, lingering aches and fatigue from travel be damned.

She'd looked terrible when she entered the hall. Gone was her usual cheery self; her skin was pale and it looked as if she hadn't gotten much sleep. He had wanted to do something to take the grim look off her face, but he hadn't known what to say. Instead, he had muttered a brief _welcome home, Sister_ to her and watched as she limped down the stairs. Still concerned, he had followed her down, stopping at the door where the lower level Companions slept. He found her sitting at the edge of her bed, her head down and arms draped protectively around her pack. It had taken everything in him to turn away instead of wrapping his arms around her and asking what he could do to ease whatever burden she carried.

Mara bit her lip. "I took a trip south."

"South is pretty vague. Did you trade some of those daggers you'd been working on with Alvor in Riverwood?" She had gone off on a day trip some time ago and had come back with a pack full of iron ore, which she then spent an entire afternoon at Warmaiden's smelting down into ingots that she then hauled back up to the Skyforge. For hours, he could hear the forge's hammer strike down on metal, the sound lighter than what Eorlund usually made, telling Farkas that Mara was the one at the anvil. The finished result was a case full of razor sharp iron daggers with sturdy leather wrapped hilts. He recalled that she had been particularly pleased with them, even if she had doubts that she could get the asking price of ten septims each when she tried to sell them at the market.

"Yes, and he bought all of them." She tilted the tongs and inspected the now blackened piece of armor. Nodding her head in satisfaction, she set the still hot piece on the forge's stone ledge to cool. Taking a breath, she looked back up at him. "After, I went to Helgen."

Ah. Now he understood the look on her face early this morning. "You could have asked me to come along," he told her. "You could have asked _any_ of us to come with you," he quickly amended, tongue tripping over words he wanted to say yet didn't know how to properly express them.

She shook her head. "No, this was something that I had to do by myself." Busying herself by straightening up her workstation, she untied her apron and held it close to her chest. She had put off visiting her hometown for months, mostly because she didn't want to face the reality that her parents and many of her friends were dead. In Whiterun, she could pretend that she was being sent off to an apprenticeship that her father had arranged for her so she could better learn their craft. She often lingered in the marketplace, pretending that she was scoping out the stalls to see where her mother's wares would be best suited to sell at good prices. On the road, she could imagine that she was either going to or coming from a successful trip to one of the bigger holds to sell her father's weapons and armor, but once she saw the charred remains of Helgen's walls, she had been faced with the harsh reality that all she knew and all she had loved were gone.

"Bandits had made their home in the town. There weren't many; I dealt with them all." _That_ had enraged her. To see thugs skulking around familiar places, to witness thieves sift through what few possessions remained within the home of a boy she had once been sweet on was unforgivable. To actually see someone pick through her father's shop and try on his wares had sent her into such a fury that she had seen red. Common sense had stopped her from taking her axe from the loop at her belt and unleashing all her pent up anger. Opting for stealth instead, she had switched to her bow. Mara had been quite the tomboy in her childhood. Out of all the other children in the village, she was the one that knew all the best hiding spots. That knowledge had served her well, providing her with vantage points to pick off her prey before they had even known what had hit them.

After she had been sure she had killed the last bandit, she made her way back to her home. It had survived the worst of the dragon's fire, but the roof of her father's shop had partially collapsed. She had lingered there for some time, remembering the last time she had seen her parents. Both of them must have taken refuge in the cover the shop had provided, never thinking that the place that had supplied their livelihood would have inadvertently caused their deaths.

"Are you all right?" Farkas asked. Mara might have been standing beside him just then, but she was miles away.

She nodded. "I spent the night in my old room," she told him. "I barricaded the front door and reinforced the windows in case more bandits arrived. Our house was one of the lucky ones; there was hardly any damage and for some reason, looters had left it alone." She held up the apron she was holding. "This was my father's spare apron. He often…" she had to stop, her breath solidifying in her throat. "He would often let me wear it when I helped him. He always said that one day it would be mine, but I don't think he meant for me to have it this way."

Farkas was at a loss. "Don't cry," he quietly said, stepping closer to her. Women in tears unnerved him more than anything else.

"I'm not crying," she replied, her lip quivering. She had thought it odd that she couldn't shed a single tear when she walked among the destruction, but it seemed as if the dam she had created to hold all her feelings back had finally broken.

"Of course you aren't." Farkas' arms automatically went around her and she leaned into him, her sobs muffled by his shoulder.

"Imperials must have come back after," she said after some time, her voice wobbling. "I found the gravesites. Someone had been able to identify the dead, because everyone had a marker." At the back of the graveyard, there was a giant tree Mara's mother had often admired in the fall when the leaves turned blazingly red and orange. It had almost seemed fitting that she and Mara's father had been put to rest directly underneath its shade. "I stayed away for so long because I didn't want to face the truth. My family is dead, Farkas. I have no one left."

Farkas awkwardly pat her back, wondering what he should say. He was positive that Vilkas would have had some words of comfort to offer, but he was coming up empty. "You have us," he finally settled on. "We can't replace your birth family, but you're never alone as long as you have a Shield Sibling."

"You mean that?"

"I do."

Mara sniffled and wiped at her eyes with the backs of her hands. "It's not like Skjor has given me anything to do besides mend his socks."

Farkas grinned, relieved that he saw a glimmer of Mara's normal self peeking through her grief. "Ah, he's only dragging his feet because he wants to send you off on something good to prove your worth. Nothing big has come up yet, but give him time." He watched as she yawned, her hand unable to hide the way she wavered on her feet. "You haven't slept much, have you?"

She shook her head. "I caught a few hours in Helgen, but every little noise woke me up. You can't really sleep on the road and I wanted to get back as soon as possible, so I didn't stop in Riverwood." She had spent more than one day in Helgen, taking time to hide valuables she hadn't been able to carry in places that looters wouldn't think to look. Between checking her shoulder every so often for intruders and fortifying her family home, there hadn't been much time for sleep.

"Then come on. You need your rest." He led her down the path and into Jorrvaskr, pausing only long enough so that a handful of others awake could call out their greetings to her. Taking her hand, Farkas led her downstairs and down the hall.

"Wait, you passed my room."

"I know. I said you needed rest, and if you were sleeping out in the open, someone will probably wake you up just by moving around." He held open his door. "So you can borrow my room. Don't worry, I don't charge rental fees."

She smiled. "I think this is the first time I've been in here." Looking around, she raised her eyebrow. "Is that a _bar_ over there?"

He shrugged and looked sheepish. "I like my creature comforts. Sometimes it gets too cold in the winter to make the walk down to the Mare."

She placed the folded apron on top of the bar. "I'm shocked that Torvar hasn't made himself at home yet."

"He tried, but I learned to hide the alcohol. When he saw that the bar wasn't stocked, he lost interest." He watched as Mara toed off her boots and slid underneath the furs he had atop his bed. "Well…" Farkas absently rubbed at the back of his head. "I'll leave you to it. Sleep well."

He stopped short when she reached for his hand. "It's been so lonely on the road and after visiting Helgen…" Her voice sounded small, vulnerable. "Will you stay, at least until I fall asleep?"

Farkas really didn't have to think about it. He knew he was lost the moment Mara had looked up at him with those big blue eyes of hers. "Until you fall asleep," he agreed, sitting on the side of the bed to take his boots off. There was a brief moment of figuring out where arms and legs went – the bed was built for only one Farkas-sized occupant, not for two people – but they wound up with Mara facing the wall and Farkas spooned behind her. He had initially thought that the position would be cramped, but he discovered that sharing such a small space underneath the furs was rather cozy.

"I want to go back," she said. "I could only carry a few of Father's tools in my pack, but I want to get more things from the house, especially items that Mother had made. It's silly to be so attached to things, but…"

Farkas shook his head. "It isn't silly. I'll go with you whenever you want."

Mara laced her fingers with his. "Thank you. For everything."

He lay there listening as her breathing evened out, but instead of easing his arm from where she had dragged it across her waist, he settled further against the pillow and inhaled the scent of her hair. He normally associated the smoky, metallic scent with Eorlund, but the smells of the forge seemed to mingle with whatever lightly floral scented soaps Mara favored, creating something pleasantly new.

Lulled by the soothing sound of her heartbeat, Farkas tightened his hold on Mara and eventually followed her into slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

"I swear to the Nine, Farkas. If you pass out on me, I'm going to leave you for dead."

Farkas tried to laugh, but all that came out was a gurgle. "Compassionate, just like your namesake," he finally managed to wheeze out, his knee buckling underneath him.

Mara's grip on his waist tightened as she attempted to right them both. "That's me, one bundle of love and joy," she said brightly, slowly moving him down the road with her. "You can make it; just a little further." The road was starting to become better maintained, telling Mara that they were getting closer to reaching Falkreath. Her breath ghosted out in front of her and she was starting to inwardly panic when she realized that Farkas' breath was thin and barely visible. "Here, drink this," she told him, blindly reaching for a potion and uncorking it with her teeth.

"That's…the last one."

"I know. We'll buy more in town."

"You're hurt."

Her side was killing her, but the claw marks were nothing compared to the large open wounds Farkas was sporting. Her shoulder and arm were soaked with his blood from half-supporting, half-carrying him down the road and it was making her grip on him slip every so often. "It's just a scratch." She pressed the vial to his lips. "Drink it, for me." Farkas tilted his head back to drink, but then his face grew pale and his eyes rolled up in his head. Mara was knocked to her knees at the sudden shift in weight, the vial shattering as it hit the road, its precious contents seeping into the ground beneath them. Frantic, Mara felt his neck for a pulse, relieved when she found a weak beat. She sat there in the snow with him for a moment, looking at the houses in the distance and wondering how she was going to haul Farkas to safety by herself.

She stood up and blew her hair out of her eyes. "Well, shit."

* * *

Farkas slowly opened his eyes. The first thing he realized was that he was staring up at exposed wooden rafters. Candles were lit on a table nearby and he had so many fur pelts layered on top of him that it was starting to become uncomfortably warm. The second thing he realized was that Mara was looming above him, a damp cloth in her hands and a relieved expression on her face. Wide streaks of drying blood marred her cheek and side of her neck; Farkas had a brief moment of fear for her health before he realized that the blood was from his own injuries.

"You're awake," she breathed, a smile breaking out that warmed Farkas to the bone to see. Before he could say anything else, she bent and softly pressed her lips to his. He was so surprised that he didn't react; he just closed his eyes and attempted to lift his hand – he had no idea if it was to push her away in confusion or to bring her closer like he'd always wanted to – but the searing pain that tore through his side at the movement caused him to grunt in discomfort.

There was a tisking noise to his left. "I think your man has had enough excitement for the day," someone said. Farkas turned his head and saw a woman standing nearby with a bag in her hands. "Here are the ingredients, per our deal."

Mara sat up and nodded. Sliding out of the bed, she reached for her coin bag. Farkas couldn't help but notice that Mara was counting out the last of the coins she carried with her. "Thank you. I don't know how my husband and I can ever repay you for your kindness."

The older woman let out a _harrumph_, but put the coin in her own pouch. "We'll call it an even deal, for this one time." With that, the woman left, closing the door behind her.

Farkas tried to sit up, but quickly regretted it. "Shhh, try not to move too much. Your injuries haven't healed," Mara said, the mattress dipping as she sat beside him again.

Farkas licked his lips and was about to ask her just why she had called him her husband, but Mara's face wavered in front of his eyes and the room dimmed.

Mara ran her fingertips over his cheek. "Sleep. I'll explain everything later."

Fighting it wasn't an option. Farkas sighed and pressed his face against her hand, slipping down into unconsciousness again.

* * *

It was dark when he next woke. Taking stock of his injuries, Farkas realized that he was stiff and sore, almost as if he had gone round after round with his brother _and_ Skjor in the sparring ring. He took it as a good sign when he was able to lift his arm with only minor pain, and took it as an even better omen when he was able to sit up by himself with merely a little bit of a struggle.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the gloom, and he found Mara dozing in a chair beside a dying fire at the other end of the small room. He should have first noticed that the manner she had her chin resting on her chest as she slept was bound to be uncomfortable, but he was too busy staring at the way her hair tumbled across her shoulders in messy waves. Normally, she had it either pinned up in a bun to keep her hair out of her eyes when she was busy at the forge or in a neat braid down her back when she trained, and this was the first time Farkas had ever seen it down. Mara had also shed her gear and was wearing some sort of white shift, her legs folded underneath her. She looked smaller without her usual leather armor and severe hairstyle, more vulnerable.

Farkas had to smirk at that thought. He'd seen Mara take down men twice her size without even breaking a sweat.

He must have made some sort of noise, because she stirred in the chair. He watched as she held a hand to her neck, wincing at the crick he had known she'd get.

"You're awake," she said, getting up. Farkas smiled at the mismatched socks she wore, noticing that one had rolled down her shin and gathered at her ankle.

He also noticed as she drew nearer that she wasn't wearing a shift at all. She was wearing one of _his_ shirts she must have gotten out of his pack. His mouth went dry at the sudden wave of possessiveness he hadn't known himself capable of feeling and it was all he could do to stay still instead of attempt to lurch out of bed and gather her in his arms. In his current state, he was positive that all he'd manage to do would be to land face first on the floor at her feet anyway.

Mara poured a cup of water and sat next to him. "I'm sure you have some questions," she said, offering the cup to him. Farkas was frustrated that his hand shook so badly that she had to help guide the glass to his lips, but that sting was easily soothed when Mara cupped the back of his neck with her free hand, her fingers idly stroking his skin.

He arched an eyebrow and sat back after taking a hearty swallow. "One or two, _wife_."

She blushed at the tone he used. "It was the only thing I could think of when the guards found me. It seemed to me that they would respond better to _help my husband_ than they would to _help my friend_." She had been right too; when one of the guards had barked out that the injured man they carried was Mara's husband, the innkeeper had jumped and given them an available room, stating that they would come to some sort of agreement once Farkas' health was better.

"I guess you broke your promise," he rasped, silently congratulating himself on his ability to grab hold of the glass and take another sip on his own. "You really didn't leave me for dead after all."

She bit her lip and looked away. "Actually, I did leave you, but only for a little while." She had covered him with pine boughs in an attempt to shield him from the cold and from predators before sprinting to the town, grabbing the first two guards she had seen. It hadn't taken much to convince them to follow her, not spattered in blood as she had been.

"It couldn't be helped," he said, trying to erase the worried look that had taken up residence on her face. "And thanks, for saving my life."

She set the cup aside. Running the backs of her fingers across his cheek, she leaned in. Farkas hoped that she'd think to kiss him again, but all she did was brush a bit of stray hair away from his eyes. "You would have done the same for me," she told him, getting up again to walk to the far end of the room

_If she thinks she's going to tough it out in a chair, she's got another thing coming,_ he thought. "I don't hog the covers," he said, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Mara jumped, but quickly regained her composure. "I didn't want to disturb you," she said.

He weakly patted the furs on the unoccupied side of the bed. "There's more than enough room for both of us," he said. "Those chairs look uncomfortable to just sit on, let alone try to sleep in."

She nodded, having thought the same thing. Gingerly crawling into bed with him, she pulled the furs up to her chin. "I hope you don't mind me borrowing your shirt," she said. "I packed sort of light." She had left a lot of supplies in Jorrvaskr for a reason: she had meant to spend the majority of the trip hunting and looking for ruins. She'd saved the space in her bag for the items she might come across so she could bring them back to Whiterun and sell for some extra money. Jobs still hadn't been offered to her, so she had been spending a lot of time going from one hold to the next, doing odd jobs and answering bounties each Jarl had put out. While they were slowly putting coin in her carefully hidden coffers, she was always on the lookout for ways to bring in more money, even if it meant going to unconventional means.

_Unconventional, hell. It's called grave robbing, Mara. If you're going to do it, might as well be honest with yourself._

Speaking of money, they would have to pay for this room somehow. Mara had just spent the last of the money she had brought with her for this trip on healing supplies. She frowned. She would have spent a lot more coin on the finished products, but luckily Mara had come across a few ingredients the apothecary shopkeeper had been looking for, so she had gotten the raw materials at a reduced rate. _And even that had taken some serious haggling,_ she grumped, turning onto her side and facing Farkas. Color was returning to his face and none of his injuries looked like they were becoming infected, so at least they could breathe a bit easier. He had lost a considerable amount of blood though, and Mara wondered just when he'd be well enough to move. They would have to get back to Whiterun by horseback, which hopefully would only cost fifty septims and only if they caught a wagon departing from town since she hadn't seen a stable nearby. It would take some resourcefulness and a bit of marketing savvy to sell some of the things she had accumulated in her bag, but maybe…

"You haven't heard a word I said," Farkas quietly said, the smile that lifted the corner of his mouth softening his accusation. "You're thinking about how we're going to pay for all this, aren't you?"

She nodded, pillowing her head with her hand. "Stop reading my mind," she said playfully.

"I have some coins in my pack," he told her. "It should cover the cost of the room and the money you spent for medicine."

She frowned. "You don't have to repay me for that."

"Think of it as restocking your supplies. Besides, what sort of husband wouldn't provide for his wife, especially after she brought him back from the brink of death?"

She bit her bottom lip, which Farkas was quickly discovering was her tell when she was thinking something over. "About that," she said. "While we're here, we're going to have to act like a married couple, just for appearances." If she hadn't lied to the guards as soon as she had seen them, she would have had to concoct some sort of story for the innkeeper in order for them to have the one room. She had only been to Falkreath once, and that had been a brief in and out visit to inform the blacksmith that the dog he had been searching for had been a wild goose chase. Even in that brief visit, she sensed that Falkreath was somewhat conservative, especially when a guard commented how dangerous it was for a woman to be traveling alone. Mara had doubts that the innkeeper would have let them share a room had she known that they really weren't wed.

"So how do you want to play this out?" Farkas asked, drawing Mara from her thoughts. He turned to his uninjured side and stared at her.

"Well, luckily we won't have to do much but keep to a few displays of affection. Everyone we met knows that you're not up to full health, so you don't have to worry about sweeping me off my feet," she teased.

"Mara, I'm serious."

"I am too. Why don't we just tell people that we're newlyweds, that way if we slip up on something, we can blame getting used to our new status?" She pushed herself up on her elbow. "I don't make a habit of lying, but when necessary, I make sure that my story is simple. If anyone asks anything else about us, we'll tell the truth. You and I are Companions – "

"You haven't been officially accepted yet."

She waved a hand away. "Trifling detail." She suddenly sat up and crawled out of bed, looking as if she had just remembered something. Farkas watched as she dug into her bag and fished out an item. "I was meaning to sell these, but it seems as if they'll serve a better purpose." She got back into bed and opened up her hand. In her palm lay two gold bands.

"Where did you get these?" Farkas asked, taking the larger looking one.

"Mudcrabs. You won't believe what sort of odd things you find on them." She slid the smaller band onto her left ring finger. "I know they're simple looking, but…"

"I'm a simple man, Mara," Farkas answered, putting his ring on. It felt strange, but it fit perfectly, almost as if it had been meant for him to wear. "These will do."

Mara smiled. "I'm glad. Now, back to the story. We've known the other for only half a year, but we've gotten very close in that time. It was love at first sight."

Farkas grinned, even though he could feel his eyes start to droop. "Was it, really?"

"Really? No, I was still surprised that I had even thought to help out with attacking a giant to even think of anything else." She thought back to that night they first met. "It was dark, and here was this huge man coming up to me to see if I was all right. I was more frightened than love struck."

"I never meant…" He yawned again and shifted onto his back. "I never meant to scare you."

"I know that now. And for the record, out of everyone in Whiterun, you're the one that I feel the most comfortable around." She was going to say something else, but she realized that Farkas had already fallen asleep. Settling down beside him, Mara pulled the covers up to her chin and quickly followed.

* * *

It felt odd to wake up in a strange place with a woman in his arms. It took Farkas more than a moment to sluggishly recall just why he was half-naked in a bed he didn't own with Mara tucked up close to his uninjured side. Sometime during the night, he had managed to wrap his arm around her, tugging her close enough for her to pillow her head on his shoulder. One of her legs was tangled with his and Farkas inhaled the sweet lavender scent radiating off her body. He knew that he wasn't prone to moving quietly, but he took his time to sift his fingers through her hair, admiring the way sunlight from a window high overhead highlighted the warm blonde strands.

The little movement must have woken her. Farkas took great pleasure in seeing her stir, watching as her eyes fluttered before slowly opening and she stretched magnificently against him. "Good morning," he said, his fingers brushing against the curve of her cheek.

She must have still been half asleep because the only reply he got was an incoherent mumble before she yawned and snuggled closer to him. He suppressed a shiver at the way her hand sleepily slid over his chest, her palm resting on the bandage she had wrapped around him. She must have mistaken his reaction for one of pain, because she jolted up fully awake, her face screwing into an expression of discomfort when the move made her strain her own injuries.

"How do you feel?" she asked, getting out of bed and going over to the table she had stashed their newly bought healing supplies at. Farkas could hear her mixing ingredients together, but he was more concerned about the vacant spot next to him and the lack of soft skin pressed to his side.

"I've been better," he answered, attempting to sit up on his own. He managed to get his elbows underneath him and scoot up against the headboard, which was an improvement from the day before. "I've also been worse."

"Not every day you get attacked by a bear _and_ a frost troll, hmm?"

"Gotta tell you, that's a first for me. Usually one of the two manages to eat the other before I decide to attack." They had been walking towards Falkreath to escape the weather before making it back to Whiterun when the troll had come out of nowhere. The two of them had been in the process of finishing it off when the battle must have alerted a hibernating bear, who hadn't really appreciated being woken up. Claw swipe aside, Mara had the troll under control, and figured that Farkas could say the same about the bear. Unfortunately, his foot had slipped on a hidden patch of ice and the bear had taken advantage of his lowered guard. If she hadn't been there to hack at the bear with her axe, he would have been killed.

She walked up to him. Farkas was appreciative of the view, especially when the light hit her just so and he could _almost_ see the hazy outline of her body underneath the shirt she wore. For only knowing her for several months, she had quickly become a close friend, and by the gods, he wanted her. No, it was more than that. He _cared_ for her. He hoarded the time they spent together, the laughter and the smiles and the way she looked at him as if he was the only person in the entire world. She was genuinely interested in his opinion on any topic, no matter how simple or mundane the conversation was. If anything, she was the perfect match for his brother instead of him, but Farkas wasn't one for throwing away priceless gifts when they landed in front of him.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked, setting a cup full of foul-smelling liquid on the side table. She helped him sit upright before her hands went to his bandages.

"Just wondering how long we're going to be here." He was hoping that it would be a while; he had enough coin to cover the room for at least several nights, but on the other hand, he knew that he'd soon start to feel antsy. He never liked to stay in one place for long, preferring to be on the move. Jorrvaskr was the one exception to the rule, seeing that it had been his home for so long. "How long was I out anyway?"

"You were unconscious for a day and a half," she answered. "As for how long we're staying, that depends on how well you're feeling. The innkeeper is letting us have the room for only fifteen septims a night, including food." Mara unwound the gauze surrounding his chest, letting out a surprised gasp at the bright pink marks lining his ribs and shoulder. She had been so afraid of infection the night before, but looking at the wounds, she would have thought he had gotten injured a week or more ago.

"I heal fast," he said in explanation. Mara couldn't quite tell, but he almost sounded shy about admitting it. "I just feel a little dizzy."

"Probably from blood loss," she agreed, brushing the tips of her fingers against the newly healed skin.

Farkas flinched. "Tickles."

She grinned up at him. "I'm going to have to remember that for future reference," she told him, picking up the cup. "Here, this will get your strength up."

He gave the cup a dubious look. "I'd rather have a steak and a flagon of mead instead." As if to prove his point, his stomach decided to loudly rumble just then.

"I'll be sure to get you something," Mara laughed. Pushing the cup into his hands, she urged him to drink.

He made a face after the first sip. "Gah, this is _awful_."

"I know, but it's the most potent healing drink I can make with what we have." She couldn't stop herself from reaching out and smoothing his hair out of his face again. "If you finish it, I'll find you something sweet to take the taste away."

Farkas was _this close_ to suggesting that the only sweet thing he needed was another kiss from her, but he stopped himself at the last moment. Mara was such a good friend; he was deathly afraid of bungling up whatever they had between them by rushing things. Frowning into the cup, he grumbled. "_Two_ desserts."

"Deal."

* * *

Mara left Farkas after their late breakfast to see if she could talk the local blacksmith into letting her use his forge. Farkas dozed off and on for the better part of the afternoon, but after staring at the exposed beams for what seemed like an eternity, he finally grew restless enough to throw a shirt on and slowly make his way into the inn's main room. A quick conversation with the innkeeper pointed him towards the direction of the smithy, and he wandered down the street. His leg still wasn't quite up to full strength, and he was grateful he had the forethought to bring along his sheathed sword to use as a makeshift walking stick.

_Gods, but I feel like an old man_, he grumped, watching as others seemed to sprint past him as they went along their early evening business. His mood brightened when he caught sight of Mara wearing too-big gloves and a blacksmith apron at the anvil, her hair once again pinned out of her face. He noticed that she wasn't swinging the hammer as high as she often did back home – and how easily he had begun to call Jorrvaskr _her_ home! – telling him that her side was bothering her more than she let on.

She was so into the piece of metal she was shaping that she didn't notice him until the blacksmith called out a greeting. "You should be resting," she chided, setting the hammer aside to go over to him.

"I have been," he grunted, gratefully accepting the stool the blacksmith had pulled out for him. "I got bored."

"I for one am glad for your arrival," the blacksmith said jokingly. "Mara has been steadily bleeding my finances dry all day. I don't know if I can afford to buy another piece."

Mara laughed. "You know you can sell those items at twice the amount you bought them for, Lod. You'll regain your money in no time."

He nodded in agreement. "You do such fine work; I may have to try to talk you into staying on as a partner. Falkreath could use more people like you."

Farkas reached out and wrapped his uninjured arm around Mara's waist, his hand resting familiarly at her hip. "My woman does good work, doesn't she?" Pride laced his voice and he tugged her closer to him, partly as an encouraging hug, but mostly because he hadn't liked the way Lod had looked at her when he offered Mara a place at his forge. _If we're to act married, best let the competition know. _"Mara has talent, even before she began training under the best blacksmith in all of Skyrim."

"Flatterer," she said, her lips moving up into an easy smile that made Farkas' heart flip.

"Only speaking the truth, Love."

She broke free from his embrace and went back to the forge. "Well Lod, since you say that you won't buy another piece from me, I'll have to leave this one unfinished. I'm feeling charitable; you can have it free of charge. It's getting late anyway."

"Many thanks," Lod said. "I'm sure this will make a fine shoulder guard once I've shaped it more."

"That's what I was meaning for it to be. Now if you excuse me, I do believe the inn's fine supper is calling my name."

Farkas made a move to stand. "They have a stew bubbling…woah." He wobbled on his feet, yet before he could right himself, Mara was at his side, her arm around his waist.

"Take it slowly," she murmured, waving goodbye to Lod. Once they were out of earshot, she grinned up at Farkas. "Your woman, huh?"

He grinned unrepentantly. "Yep, my woman."

"It was a nice touch, especially since he was getting flirtier than I liked." She braced her palm against his chest when Farkas stumbled. "Lean on me, okay?"

He pressed the side of his face against her hair. "You're a little tiny to be acting as a crutch," he mumbled.

She poked him in his good side with an index finger. "I may be shorter than you," she said, helping him down the street. "But just remember who took down Uthgerd the Unbroken with only a few punches. I'm tougher than I look."

He laughed. "That you are." They eventually made their way back inside the inn where Mara led Farkas to an unoccupied table so she could get their dinner. His mouth watered at the smell of venison when she set a wooden bowl in front of him before sitting closely at his side, looking the part of a new bride doting on her injured husband. Farkas didn't know if it was the wine talking, but he began to think that they _were_ married, even going so far as to dream up what their future would be once they returned to Whiterun.

His mood soured. _Once we get home, she won't be yours to pretend with any longer. That's what will happen, Icebrain. Nothing more._

"You've grown quiet," Mara commented once they were back in their room. She had retreated to a wooden screen to change into her borrowed shirt, unbraiding her hair as she came out from behind it. Farkas watched as she ran a comb through her hair, a sort of bittersweet feeling welling up in the pit of his gut. He was well enough to move on, especially when they had learned during dinner that a wagon was due to pass through town the next day.

"I'm always quiet," he countered. "Vilkas is the talker in the family."

"That's not true," she told him. "You might not talk much compared to the others, but when you do, it's because you've thought about what you mean to say."

He cleared his throat, wanting to change the topic before he said the things he truly wanted to say to her. "You never told me: what were you doing all the way out here by yourself?"

Mara set her comb down. "Adventuring," she said lightly. The only reason that they were currently travelling together was because of a chance encounter on the road. She had been on her way south and west to see what she could find and he had been on his way north back to Whiterun when he had stumbled upon her campsite one night. Instead of waving hello and then continuing on his way, he had decided to follow her wherever she had been headed, never questioning why she was out on her own.

"Mara…"

"I was trying to hunt for game," she finally said. "I haven't gotten any jobs yet and I'm in need of some extra coin. The leather I would have gotten from any hides would have come in handy to trade or make armor from."

His brow furrowed. "Why haven't you had anything offered yet?"

"I don't know, ask your brother. Vilkas keeps on saying that I need more training before he thinks I'm ready and Skjor thinks I need more time."

"I still don't see why you need money." In all honesty, he didn't. The Companions took care of their own. While some might earn more money than others by taking on certain requests, no one starved.

She stood up straighter. "I don't want to be a charity case. I've always paid for my own way; I feel so…" she spread her hands out in front of her. "Useless. I've been taking on bounties that the Jarl posts just to save up."

Farkas stared at the crackling fire. "Thinking about leaving us already?"

She tilted her head. "What? No. Whatever gave you that impression?"

He shrugged. "You wouldn't be the first one." There had been plenty of other people that had tired of their lifestyle, deciding after they collected a certain amount of money that they were better off someplace else, which was probably another reason Skjor was reluctant to induct Mara as a full-fledged member of the Companions. Farkas had never really been bothered by the sudden absences, but the thought of Mara leaving created a dull ache in his chest.

She was silent for a while before he heard the quiet rustle of fabric as she made her way towards him. "I'm not leaving," she said firmly. Her fingers were light on his jaw as she gently tilted his face up so she could look him in the eye. "I might head off to parts unknown every so often, but I'll always come back."

"Glad to hear it," he said gruffly, leaning into her touch. The ache in his chest seemed to subside, but he was left thinking about it. He was left to think about a lot of things, namely the fact that Mara's fingers were still softly touching his cheek. He didn't know if it had something to do with them pretending to be a couple or if he was holding onto a thin strand of hope that perhaps she was starting to feel something for him, but he liked the shift in their relationship. "I had hoped that we'd get to keep you."

She swayed closer to him. "You'll have to drive me out if you want me gone for good," she joked, but then her face grew serious. "I thought I had lost everything when Helgen burned down, but you and the others have given me a home, a family. I'm more grateful than words can describe."

He nodded, not knowing what else to say. "How's your side?" he asked instead, just to fill in the silence that had fallen between them. As if on its own accord, his hand ghosted over her ribs where she had shown the most discomfort.

Mara's hand fell from his face and she pressed her palm over his. "It's all right, I guess. It still hurts a bit when I move that arm too much, but I should be fine in a few days." She had been taking small sips off of the healing draughts she had been crafting for Farkas that had sped up her recovery time. The majority of the damage the troll's claws had done had been to her armor; by the time the claws had cut through leather and cloth padding, the damage to her skin had been merely superficial cuts. She had been too busy crafting things that day in order to drum up enough money to pay for their ride home, but she meant to make repairs to both their armor as soon as they reached Whiterun.

Whiterun. Once they left Falkreath's borders, their game of pretend would be over. She didn't know how Farkas felt about it, but Mara was sad to see it gone. Even though they had only known the other for a brief while, she cared for Farkas far more than she had ever cared for anyone else.

"Come on, we should get some rest." She hovered as he limped towards the bed, noticing how his gait had strengthened. Pretty soon he wouldn't need her help. "We have a long ride ahead of us tomorrow."

The cold weather could be blamed for the reason Farkas spooned up behind her to share warmth once they settled in bed. Silent, she didn't comment when he held her closer than what was necessary. He didn't say anything when she laced her fingers with his and pressed their joined hands to her heart either.

* * *

"Well, we walked away with some extra coin, so our little adventure wasn't a complete waste," Mara said, jingling her coin purse at her belt. Her tone was too cheerful, too bright for the way she was feeling. For the first time, she looked at the gates of Whiterun with dread. Farkas had improved to the point where he was walking with only a slight limp, and she had taken to walking at least an arm's length away from him. _Better put some distance between us now,_ she thought sadly.

"Just next time, let's go off on an adventure _without_ meeting up with any trolls or bears, all right?"

She arched an eyebrow. "You mean you'd _want_ to go on another one with me, even after everything?"

He shrugged, acting aloof. "What can I say? You make for a pretty decent Shield-Sister. I should talk to…"

"No. Let Kodlak and Skjor decide when it's right for me to become a Companion in more than just name." She couldn't help reaching out and touching his arm to soften her words. "But I appreciate you wanting to speak up for me."

They reached the Gildergreen when Farkas stopped. Having napped most of the trip, he didn't know what time it was, but the area around the tree was free of people, leaving the two of them alone. Some of the torches had sputtered and died out in the night air, but the one they stood by gave off a warm circle of light. "I should give this back," he said, sliding the ring he wore off his finger. He made a motion to present it back to her, but she shook her head.

"Keep it," she told him with a brittle smile. "You never know when you might need a quick marriage, especially if you travel towards Falkreath again." She reached for her coin purse. "I need to pay you back for taking care of the inn."

He shook his head as well. "If I get to keep the ring, you get to keep your money. Add it to your collection." He winced, realizing that he sounded harsher than he meant to. "I mean, it wouldn't do if you didn't have _some _money to your name, right?" _Smooth, Farkas,_ he chided. _Why don't you stick your _other_ boot in your mouth while you're at it?_

"I guess you're right." They both seemed to put off walking up the stairs towards Jorrvaskr. Again, Farkas stopped her.

"Mara?" _Say something to her!_

"Yes?" _Say something to him!_

Madly trying to scramble for the right words, he reached out and held onto her hands. "For what it's worth," he started, bringing her knuckles to his lips and looking her in the eye. "I liked being married to you, even if it was only for a little while."

She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. "I liked being married to you too," she whispered, butterflies dancing about in her insides.

His eyes widened. "You did?"

She nodded. "You seem surprised," she joked, her heart all but beating out of her chest at the way his eyes darkened and how he moved closer to her.

"You could have any man," he murmured, letting go of one of her hands so he could cup the side of her face in his palm like she had done to him so many times during their stay. "I'm strong, but hardly bright…"

"Stop that," she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him. "You're more clever than you or anyone else gives you credit for. No man of mine is going to talk down about himself. I'll not stand for it."

"Your man?" he asked, thinking back to their conversation at Lod's forge.

She broke out into a smile. "Yep. My man."

"I'm a simple man, Mara. You deserve more."

"I'm a simple woman, Farkas." She took a deep breath. "You're all I'd ever need."

He threaded his fingers into her hair, loosening a few locks from the bun she had it in. "I don't give my heart freely," he admitted haltingly, pressing his forehead to hers. "If we do this, then it's you and none other."

She slid her free hand up his chest. His heart beat fast and strong against her palm. "I've never felt like this for anyone," she told him. "And if we do this, then it's you and none other for me as well."

Farkas made a noise deep at the back of his throat that sounded like a part groan, part growl that surprised Mara a bit. He bent his head to kiss her, but she tilted her head back an inch and put her fingers against his lips.

"Whatever happens, we'll stay friends, right?" she asked, biting at her lip. "I want this, but not if…"

He kissed her fingertips. "We'll stay friends," he promised. "No matter what." For a brief second, his mind flew back to when he was but a boy sitting at Tilma's feet as she did the mending. _A good partnership, be it in business or in romance, begins with a solid foundation. Remember that, my dearest. Find someone you can trust and respect and all will be well._

"Good." Mara's eyes fluttered closed and she tilted her face up to his. Farkas held her close and murmured her name. He was about to brush his lips against hers when a hand clapped down on his shoulder from behind.

"No lollygagging," an annoyed looking guard reprimanded sternly. "Tis nearly two in the morning; get to your homes!"

Mara buried her face against Farkas' chest, her shoulders shaking with silent laughter. "Yes sir," he said, trying and failing at keeping a serious expression. He felt like an untried youth being caught with a girl by a disapproving elder. _But in a way, isn't that what this is?_

Mara blushed under the light of the torch the guard held. "Come on," she said, tugging on Farkas' hand. "Let's go home."

He squeezed her fingers and let her lead him up the stairs towards Jorrvaskr. "Yes, let's go home."


	5. Chapter 5

Note: Whenever I have Farkas come with me (read: all the time) he has a bad habit of tripping every single trap we come across instead of letting me do my rogue sneaking around obstacles. He also rushes into any situation before I can stop him, which doesn't really let me have the element of surprise for very long. But that's okay; I still love him.

* * *

"You do know that _I'm_ the one that's supposed to be proving her worth here, right?" Mara asked dryly, kneeling to search the last draugr. She nodded at the few coins she managed to find, gold making a cheerful clinking noise as she slid them inside her money pouch.

"Couldn't help it," Farkas replied, his sword still at the ready as he scanned the room for stragglers. "I'll let you get the next one."

"That's what you said about the last two we've run across," she told him, dusting off her knees as she reached for her bow. "You keep this up and they'll be re-admitting you into the Companions instead of letting me in officially." After double checking that they were alone, she tugged him into a side chamber full of large earthenware jars. Throwing her arms over his broad shoulders, she stood on tiptoe for a kiss. "I know this is asking for the impossible, but stop being such a protective bear and let me kill something for a change."

He grinned against her mouth. "Like I said, I couldn't help it."

"Maybe I should have asked Aela or Vilkas to be my Shield Sibling for this one."

Farkas shook his head. "No way. Aela would have gotten into an archery contest with you –"

"She's been helping me improve. I would have enjoyed a friendly bit of competition."

"Trust me; you wouldn't. Aela's a sore loser. And my brother would have _never_ agreed to carry all the junk you're getting me to haul. Do you _really_ need three sets of embalming tools?"

Mara huffed. "You say junk, _I_ say treasure. There are people out there that will buy just about anything, including three sets of _antique _embalming tools. And just think about all the ore that one sword alone will buy once I get it cleaned up nicely."

"And what are you going to do with all this ore you plan on buying?"

"Make something else to sell so I can buy more ore."

Farkas rolled his eyes. "Gods save me; I've saddled myself to a hoarding merchant."

"You weren't complaining the other day when I…" She stopped mid-sentence and froze at some noise Farkas could barely hear. "Just stay behind me for this one, all right?" she whispered, taking an arrow out of the quiver she had strapped to her back. He had to honestly admire the way she crept towards the entrance to the main chamber, her bow trained in front of her and her arm perfectly still, as if it were no strain at all to keep the string on the massive longbow fully drawn. She was absolutely silent, not even seeming to breathe at all, while Farkas had to hold himself back as his own boots scuffled loudly behind her in comparison. There, in one of the off-shooting chambers, were two draugr. They didn't seem as if they had sensed their presence yet, and Farkas watched as Mara took advantage of their inattention. The closest draugr went down with a guttural groan and the second one stumbled backwards with an arrow sticking out of its head before Farkas could even blink.

"The secret to draugr," Mara said, explaining as she searched the bodies. "Is to catch them by surprise instead of rushing along and waving your sword about like a madman." She had to brace her boot on the second draugr's forehead as she extracted the arrow from the corpse's eye socket, grimacing as a withered eyeball came with it.

"I don't swing my sword about like a madman," he countered, wincing at the near-sulking tone he used.

"Really? It must have been some _other_ incredibly handsome Companion I had to patch up only a few minutes ago then."

That brightened his mood. "Incredibly handsome, you say? I might have to keep my eyes open, make sure this guy doesn't steal you from me."

Mara raised an eyebrow. "As if that would ever happen. You're lucky I prefer overprotective men who barely complain about all the things I make them carry, even if they _do_ run headfirst into battle and make enough noise to alert every enemy within earshot."

"I don't…"

"You woke Torvar up two nights ago. The man sleeps like the dead and he _still_ managed to catch us sneaking back to your room." Torvar had woken up from his mead-induced slumber thirsty as well, so instead of spending most of the night in the other's arms like they had originally planned, they wound up passing the time leaning against the bar in Farkas' room playing a drinking game until Farkas finally managed to steer their newly drunk friend back to his bed in the lower level Companion's rooms. When Farkas came back, the game somehow continuedbetween the two of them, even if it had morphed into a match of "sip and strip" where someone removed an item of clothing after each drink. Mara had been well past tipsy when Farkas had finally tumbled her into his bed, the both of them laughing happily as they shared brandy-flavored kisses.

The pounding headache the next morning had been _completely_ worth it.

"All right," he conceded. "So I _do_ tend to take enemies head on. That just means I draw their fire so you can sneak up behind them and finish them off." He gave her a lopsided grin. "We're a good team, you and I."

Mara returned his smile. "That we are." They continued further into the tomb, Farkas letting Mara take point more often. While she never really mentioned it, Farkas recalled that she _did_ have some experience fighting draugr. She had cleared out Bleak Falls barrow as well as a small barrow near Ivarstead by herself before after all, and she didn't have any problem identifying which mummified remains would suddenly reanimate, shooting them with an arrow before they even so much as twitched.

He only wished that she would stop searching every corpse they came upon. Carting around several sets of weapons and who knew what else was starting to get heavy.

After a while, they came upon a chamber with a sealed door. They looked high and low, but couldn't figure out where the release latch to the door was. Mara huffed in frustration and grabbed one of the lit torches from its sconce – seeing a lit torch in a tomb that was supposed to be uninhabited set Farkas on edge - and began to search darkened alcoves.

"I think I found it!" she exclaimed, pocketing a few gems that were just lying out in the open.

Farkas looked up from where he had been investigating on the other side of the room. "Great. Just be careful, we don't know…" He would have said something else, but Mara had already pulled the lever. The rusty grate barring their way pulled up with a loud screeching sound, but a similar grate slammed down in front of the archway, effectively trapping Mara inside.

"What that one does," Farkas finished. Walking up to her, he shook his head. "Now look at what you've got yourself into."

She curled her hands against the bars. "Not funny, Farkas."

He gave an experimental tug at the bars. "It sort of is. I mean, you've been _watch your step_ and _you could have tripped that trap_ this whole time. And now…"

She made a face at him. "Just find a way to get me out of here, okay?"

"Only if you promise to stop picking up every single piece of junk we find."

"It isn't junk…" she blew her hair out of her eyes. "_Fine._ I promise I won't make you carry more things _this_ outing. Now could you find a switch to get me out of here, _dearest_?"

He chuckled. "Sure thing. Now just sit tight and I'll get you out of there in no time." He turned to go search the newly opened corridor, but a noise had him reaching for his sword instead. "What was that?"

"Behind you!" Mara pulled out her bow when she saw four armed mercenaries enter the room.

"It's time to die, dog," one of them sneered.

"We knew you'd be coming here," another one taunted.

"Your mistake, Companion," the third said threateningly.

"Which one is that?" the lone woman asked.

The first one shook his head. "It doesn't matter. He wears that armor, he dies."

Mara pulled her bow back. "You touch him and you'll regret it," she hissed, trying to aim between the narrow bars.

The woman laughed. "Killing you will make for an excellent story."

Farkas backed up towards the grate, putting himself between Mara and the mercenaries. "None of you will be alive to tell it," he growled. Mara wasn't sure, but his voice sounded deeper, more gravelly. She was alarmed when he dropped his sword, thinking that one of the mercenaries had attacked him without her noticing, but then her eyes grew wide as Farkas dropped into a crouch, fur sprouting from his body. There was a sick sound of bones snapping and clicking into place as his arms elongated and talons erupted from the tips of his fingers. Within seconds, a massive wolf-like creature stood where Farkas had once been. The wolf tipped his head back and let loose a howl that had Mara's hair standing on end and rattled the bars of her prison.

The mercenaries barely had time to react when he attacked, his claws ripping the woman standing closest to shreds before moving to pounce on a second foe. The first mercenary seemed to gather his wits quickly, and moved to attack.

"Look out!" Mara screamed, drawing back her bow. Her aim was true and the mercenary fell to the ground with an arrow lodged in his back. She tried to get another shot off, but Farkas was far too fast in his new form. He managed to kill the last remaining mercenary before she could even nock an arrow. Farkas disappeared into the newly opened doorway. Seconds later, the grate locking Mara in was lifted and she rushed out of the alcove before anything trapped her back inside.

"Farkas?" she called out, still holding onto her bow. She tensed when he came back inside, still as a beast. He paused as he took in her loosely armed stance, his head tilted to the side as if he was wondering what move she'd make next. Mara herself wondered the same, and she found herself sliding her arrow back into her quiver and slinging her bow where it usually rested against her back. Biting her bottom lip, she held out a hand.

Farkas moved closer, his breath hot against Mara's face. His eyes were a strange yellowish color instead of the familiar warm grey she was so used to, but somehow, she could still tell that it was him. He was only a head taller than her as a man, but as a wolf, he towered above her. Farkas made a rumbling noise when she reached out to him, the fur under her fingers surprisingly soft to the touch.

"Farkas?" she repeated, looking up at him. She didn't flinch when his clawed hands settled over her waist, felt no fear when his muzzle dipped and the slightly wet tip of his nose brushed against her throat. She did gasp in alarm when she felt the fur under her fingers move almost like water before turning into bare skin, the snapping of bones shifting back into place frightening her more than seeing Farkas kill those mercenaries did.

"I didn't scare you?" he asked, his voice hoarse. He swayed on bare feet towards her and Mara automatically wrapped her arms around him.

She shook her head. "No," she answered truthfully, her voice muffled by his shoulder. She had expected to find some sort of injury; the fur there had been matted with blood, but his skin was smooth and free of gore. "_Surprised_, yes, but never scared."

"_Why?_"

She tilted her head back so she could look him in the eye. "Because that was still you. I could never be afraid of someone I trusted."

He held her closer. "I meant to tell you eventually," he finally said. "I just didn't know how."

"I guess it _would_ be a little hard to explain, especially when you couldn't be sure of the reaction you'd get." Mara tilted her head. "Wait, who else is a werewolf? Does this mean that you're going to make _me _one?"

Farkas shook his head. "Only the Companions in the Circle have Hircine's gift. And no, we'd never make you one if you truly didn't want it." He affectionately tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. "Eyes on the prey, not the horizon, love."

"Speaking of…" She looked down. "As much as I'm enjoying the view, you need to get dressed if we're ever going to move on. That shard of Wuuthrad isn't going to retrieve itself, you know." Breaking out of his embrace, she knelt and examined one of the bodies. "Who were these people?"

"Silver Hand." He pulled up his pants and tugged on a strap to his armor. "They're not all too fond of werewolves."

"So I gathered." Mara pulled her arrow out of the one she had shot. "And these four couldn't have been the only ones here. Now we're going to have to be on the lookout for living _and_ undead enemies. Wonderful."

"If we're lucky, the draugr might be doing us a favor." Picking up his sword, he tilted his chin towards where they were headed. "Ready?"

Squaring her shoulders, Mara unslung her bow and nodded. "Always."

* * *

It took longer to get back to Whiterun, mostly because both of them agreed that the deer they had spied had been too good to pass up on the outskirts of the city walls. The buck had gone down with an arrow courtesy of Mara's bow, and then had been quickly field dressed via Farkas' hunting knife. Because Farkas had to carry the carcass across his shoulders, Mara was stuck hauling his pack as well as her own. Farkas had laughed when she had grudgingly admitted that _maybe_ she had gotten too carried away with collecting things after the extra weight had slowed her down considerably.

"We were wondering when you two might show up," Vilkas drawled as soon as they came up the stairs towards Jorrvaskr. It seemed as if he had been leaning up against the nearby post for some time. "And with dinner too! That might take the sting out of having to stand on watch for so long. Take that to Tilma and then meet us all in the training ring." He held the door open for his brother to pass through, but paused and stopped Mara before she went through.

"What is it?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Before everyone else starts talking and the festivities start up, I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you," he told her, his hand on her shoulder. "I might have had second thoughts when you first showed up on our doorstep, but after spending time with you, there is no doubt in my mind that you won't make an excellent Companion. Welcome home, Sister."

Mara beamed at him. "Thank you, Brother." On an impulse, she wrapped her arms around his waist and gave him a tight hug. "That means a lot, coming from you. I'm very glad that we've become friends."

Vilkas hugged her back. "Well, seeing that Farkas never shut up about how good and how nice you were, I guess it was only a matter of time before I fell for your charm," he joked. "Just don't expect me to start following you about like a lovesick puppy. I'll leave that to my brother." He kissed the crown of her head before shoving her inside with a good-natured laugh. "Now go drop off your things and meet us out back. You know how Kodlak gets when he's kept waiting."

* * *

Hours later, drowsy from good food, good wine, and a long journey, Mara sat at the edge of Farkas' bed and began unbraiding her hair. "Is every induction always like that?" she asked.

"Not all of them. Some are pretty low-key while others tend to go on even longer. I guess it all depends on the new Companion." He sat beside her and began to remove his boots. "Today was a good day."

"It was." They were quiet, both sitting there and listening to the last bit of merriment going on upstairs. "Is something wrong?" she finally asked. Ever since that initial meeting with the Silver Hand, he had been tense. Mara could tell that he was trying to hide it for her sake, but something had been bothering him all day.

"I was wondering about the Silver Hand," he said, confirming her suspicions. "I doubt we got all of them – if there was at least one smart one in the bunch, they would have run off to tell their bosses what had happened. They know your face now and even if you're not a werewolf, they're going to assume you are because you're one of us."

She set her comb aside and shifted so she could look at him face to face. "It was bound to happen eventually. I overheard Aela talking to Skjor tonight about a group she had spotted during a scouting mission."

"I don't want you hurt because of…" he spread his hands out on his lap and stared at his palms. "Kodlak calls it a curse."

"You called it a gift."

He frowned. "That's because it's what Skjor calls it. Honestly, I don't know what it is. Vilkas refuses to shift now, and I haven't either, until…"

"Until you changed to protect me."

Farkas nodded. "I'm good, but as a man, a four-against-one match is tricky." He looked up from his hands and swallowed hard. "I couldn't let them hurt you."

Mara closed the distance between them and put her head on his shoulder. "Is it painful, when you shift?"

"At times, especially when you fight it."

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged. "Sometimes, if feels as if there's a great beast lurking inside my head. For the most part, it lets me do what I want, but I can tell that it's happiest when I let it loose to run in the woods. If I wait too long to shift, it paces around like it's caged. It's one of the reasons Vilkas has been biting everyone's head off lately. I can't remember the last time we've gone on a run together."

"You never gave any hint that it was bothering you before," she told him quietly.

"It doesn't bother me much, especially when you're around. Having you here makes the need to turn less urgent. I think it likes you." Standing up, he folded his arms over his chest. "I just worry that…"

Mara crossed the room and wrapped her arms around him from behind. "Hey, this is supposed to be a happy occasion, right?" she asked, moving until she was in front of him.

"Of course it is."

"Then don't borrow trouble. We'll deal with whatever enemy that gets thrown our way when the time comes." She reached up and cradled the side of his face with her palm. "_I would stand at her back, so that the world might never overtake us._ You meant that, didn't you?"

"You know I did."

"Then you should know that the same goes for me too. Whatever might come to pass, we'll stand together, all right?"

He kissed her palm. "Deal." Letting his hands slide to her hips, Farkas tugged her against him. "Let's go to bed."

Mara began to undo the laces to his tunic. "Well, at least this explains one thing for me."

Farkas almost didn't hear her; he was preoccupied with the buckles to her armor. "What's that?"

"You do tend to get a bit… _growly_ when we're together," she said, tilting her head to the side so he could paint a path from collarbone to jawline with his lips.

"You complaining?" he asked, nipping lightly at her earlobe.

The low rumble of his voice so close to her ear made her gasp. "Not in the slightest." She laughed when he walked her backwards until the backs of her knees met the edge of his bed. "Farkas?"

"Hmm?"

"I really think we should go out on another trip together soon."

"Why's that?" His mind was already plotting a trip somewhere north: long days spent in the other's company and even longer nights curled around a campfire under the open sky spinning through his head.

"Between the two of us, we could carry more items back home to sell. Then we could use the money to buy you a bigger bed."

Farkas had to shake his head at that. "It always comes back to buying and selling with you, doesn't it?" he asked fondly. He made a move to roll so she was perched atop him, but grunted in pain when he smacked his elbow into the wall he'd shoved his narrow-framed bed against. "Although I think you're right in this case."

Mara leaned down to kiss Farkas sweetly. "Glad you see it my way. I won't even make you carry _all_ the heavy items."

Farkas knew that Mara might mean it now, but he figured that he'd be the one lugging around anything and everything when the time came. "Whatever you say, my dear," he said instead, content to be in her arms. For her, any weight was worth it. "Whatever you say."


End file.
